Sebastian was steadily downing his finest brandy when Isobel wandered into the study several house later.
“Not now, Isobel, I am really not in the mood.” He scowled at her when she entered anyway.
“Do you know where Amelia is?” Isobel eyed him with concern. “She isn’t in her room, and nobody has seen her.”
“She is probably hiding somewhere so I don’t ask her to marry me again.” He took another swig of the amber liquid, and felt his stomach churn in revolt against the copious amount it was being asked to deal with. He hoped oblivion came first. Anything to take away the fierce ache in his chest that had blossomed when Amelia had left the pavilion.
“Why do women always have to make things so complicated?” he grumbled, shoving to his feet, and tugging on the bell pull until Hodgkiss arrived.
“Search for Amelia please, Hodgkiss, for my lady here.” He lifted his glass again and filled it, glaring at Isobel sternly before resuming his seat. “If you don’t mind.”
As she left, Sebastian ran his hand down his face wearily and waited. True to form, Dominic, Peter and Edward arrived minutes later.
“What’s wrong?” Dominic snatched the goblet away from his half-drunk brother, and tossed the expensive amber liquid casually into the fire.
“That’s my finest brandy,” Sebastian snarled, staring at the smoke billowing out of his hearth in resignation.
“Where’s Amelia?” Peter asked, eyeing the highly sullen expression on Sebastian’s face with alarm. Usually Sebastian was about as even tempered as anyone he had ever met. Something must be seriously wrong for him to be so surly.
“How in the hell should I know?” Sebastian snapped, rising to get another goblet. “I’m not her keeper.”
“You are usually near her, or know exactly where she is.” Edward argued as he shared a knowing glance with Dominic.
“Not any more. She is leaving in the next few days to go home to Eastleigh.” Sebastian rested a hand on the mantle and watched the flames burning fiercely in the grate. It resembled his aspirations for future happiness. Going up in smoke.
“She refused to marry you?” Dominic queried with a frown. “But she loves you, any fool can see that.”
Sebastian raised his head to look sadly at his brother. “Does she? I have asked her to marry me. She doesn’t seem to be really all that bothered about becoming my wife. She’ll sleep with me. Run the risk of carrying my child. But wear my name, and commit her life to me?” Sebastian shook his head once for emphasis. “Not a chance.”
“Where was she the last time you saw her?” Dominic queried sympathetically, wondering if Amelia was still sitting in the pavilion.
Hodgkiss returned moments later. “We have searched everywhere, sir. She isn’t in the house.”
Dominic looked at the darkening skies outside. The winds had begun to pick up and despite the darkness, storm clouds were clearly gathering.
“Get the grounds staff to search everywhere outside. Now. Amelia is out there somewhere. Find her.”
Sebastian picked up on the urgency in his brother’s voice, and glanced at him with growing alarm.
“What?”
“Something isn’t right. This isn’t like Amelia, is it?” His worried gaze locked with Sebastian’s.
“Get yourself sobered up,” Dominic spat, motioning to Peter and Edward to follow him.
Half an hour later, they all met in the hallway. Sebastian ran down the stairs two at a time to find his head gardener standing, cap in hand, at the bottom of the stairs.
“We’ve checked everywhere, sir, nobody has seen her.”
“You’ve checked the outbuildings and pavilion?” Sebastian sheathed his sword and scabbard, unsurprised when his head gardener nodded his head.
“Everywhere, my lord. Nobody has seen any ladies outside.”
Sebastian’s heart hammered. “Do we know if Ballantyne was actually arrested today?”
“We know Montague was sending men out, but we don’t know if they found him.”
Sebastian swore roundly. “Does he have anywhere to stay around here?”
“He isn’t at the inn in the village. As far as I know, he doesn’t have any acquaintances in the area,” Peter replied. “I don’t think he has any decent acquaintances anywhere. Certainly nobody who would put him up while he arranged someone’s kidnap.”
“Where do you think he has taken her? It’s too far back to his house.” Edward sheathed his own scabbard beneath his cloak with a sigh. The scent of battle hovered in the air between them. Unlike Isobel’s skirmish though, he knew instinctively that this one could prove deadly.
“The horses are ready, sir,” Hodgkiss reported from beside the front door.
“Edenvale Manor.” Sebastian’s voice was deadly. “I am fairly certain he took me there when I was kidnapped. Ballantyne seems to have a liking for the house, and clearly has no compunction against helping himself. It would appeal to his warped mentality to take her there.”
“It is nearly a two hour ride away. A carriage will take even longer than that,” Peter argued with a scowl.
“Yes, but she went sometime this afternoon. They could already be at Edenvale.” Dominic tugged his cloak on and followed his brothers out of the front door.
“It is me he wants to draw out. Whatever he wants, this is my battle.” Sebastian glared at each man in turn. With the afternoon he had just had, a fight was just the thing he needed. He wanted to pound something, or someone, relentlessly.
“It’s our battle,” Dominic replied, with a glare at his younger brother. “We have all been involved in this from the start, and we are all going to finish it.”
“You need to stay here to look after your wife.” Sebastian stalked towards his horse.
“I’ll look after her,” Eastleigh replied, moving to stand beside the door. “I could come with you, but it has been years since I used my sword and would be more of a hindrance than a help. Please, Sebastian? Please find my daughter and bring her home.”
Sebastian nodded briskly. “Believe me, we will get her back,” he promised coldly, wheeling his horse around with a firm kick before disappearing into the night.
Amelia slowly became aware of voices through the thick fog of consciousness. She could distinctly make out two different men who were close. Without opening her eyes, she knew neithr of them was Sebastian.
It took several moments before she could recall the events of the afternoon, and the horrible realisation of her fate dawned on her.
She had been kidnapped.
Unless she was much mistaken, she had been kidnapped by Ballantyne.
It took every ounce of her fortitude she possessed to remain still, and calm while she thought. She was so very cold. She wanted to shiver but daren’t move.
“You had better open your eyes, my dear. I know you are awake.” A rough masculine voice sing-songed so close to her ear that she instinctively cringed in fear.
Immediately her eyes snapped open, and she looked into the iciest blue eyes she had ever seen in her life. So pale, they were almost white.
She swallowed the scream that rose in her throat and stared back blankly.
“Well hello there. Amelia, isn’t it? I don’t believe we have met,” Ballantyne whispered, running his eyes down her lasciviously.
Amelia knew without looking that they had removed her clothing, leaving her in nothing but a whisper-thin shift. A slow blush stole through her cheeks at the masculine interest in his gaze as he eyed the dark circles of her breasts for several moments before moving down the rest of her slowly.
“We will have fun with this one.” He glanced slyly at his companion standing on the opposite side of the bed.
Amelia looked at the tall, gaunt man standing beside the bed, and knew instinctively this was the man Sebastian had called Rat.
He was almost as gaunt as Ballantyne. Tallish but thin, his face was heavily pockmarked from lack of washing and a lifetime of dissolution. Amelia felt bile rise in her throat as the thought of Martha’s fate rose in her mind.
“We will see if your lord wants you when you have serviced us.” Ballantyne drew a long knife from the bedside table, and ran it slowly down the middle of her chest between the soft mounds of her breasts.
“You can do what you want to me, but you will never get away with it,” Amelia snapped, refusing to allow either man to see how terrified she was. “Sebastian will hunt you down and make you die slowly.”
Ballantyne spat an epithet. “Cavendish isn’t going to bother with the likes of you.” He flicked a finger across her nipple, watching her closely for her reaction. She did nothing but blink.
“My father will hunt you down if you harm so much as a hair on my head,” she whispered, hatred filling her eyes.
“Your father? Do you even know who he is?” Ballantyne scoffed, sliding a hand down across her belly. He laughed when she squirmed against the bonds tying her hands to the bed head.
“Yes, I do know who my father is. He is the Earl of Eastleigh, and has some acquaintances in very high places.” Amelia’s voice was cold contempt. “He will use every one at his disposal to ensure you die painfully.”
Ballantyne paused and stared suspiciously at her. “Eastleigh?”
“Yes, why do you think he is at Tingdale?” Amelia glared at both men in disgust. She knew Ballantyne was thrown when he glanced at Rat.
“Do you know of this?” he spat, glaring at the older man spitefully.
“Nothing, sir,” Rat replied hesitantly, suddenly not so emboldened now he was facing his master’s wrath.
Shaking his head absently, Ballantyne turned back towards her.
“It doesn’t matter who sired you, my dear. Even if they do find you, when we have finished, no man will want you.
Amelia screamed as Rat grabbed hold of one knee, yanking it high and wide, while Ballantyne used his body to force open her other leg. Her stomach heaved as she realised what they intended to do to her, and she knew what Martha must have felt in the hours before death.
Her thoughts immediately turned towards Sebastian, and she mentally pleaded with him to find her.
“Boss!”
Ballantyne paused, opening the placket of his breeches at the sudden shout.
“Go and see what they want,” he snarled, watching as Rat disappeared through the door. It was enough of a distraction for Amelia to lift her leg, and kick Ballantyne hard on the side of his head.
He flew off the end of the bed, and landed on the floor with a thump.
Amelia was still squirming against the bonds, trying to loosen them enough to slip her arm free, when her head was suddenly yanked back as Ballantyne grabbed a fistful of hair, and shoved his face close to hers.
“You’ll pay for that, bitch,” he snarled, a small trickle of saliva dripping from the side of his mouth.
“Boss!” Rat’s voice came from somewhere downstairs.
“What?” Ballantyne snapped, shoving away from Amelia and moving towards the door.
“Company.” Although Rat’s voice was significantly quieter, his words were enough to make Amelia’s heart thump crazily in her chest.
Sebastian.
It was all she needed to look at the bonds. As Ballantyne disappeared downstairs, she bent her fingers down enough to loosen the thick rope and within seconds had one hand free.
Seconds later she jumped from the bed, quickly glancing around the room for her clothes, but couldn’t see them.
Downstairs, raised voices became louder as Ballantyne shouted his orders. Amelia knew he would be back at any moment, and felt her stomach heave at the thought of what they would do to her if they came back. The possibilities gave her the courage to do what she needed to.
Ignoring her unclothed state, she quickly slid the window upwards. She didn’t stop to look down, and jumped across the short distance to the thick branch of the large oak outside of the window. It was very high, but she had little choice. With a silent prayer heavenwards, she clambered down the branches she could reach, before she had to let go and fall to the ground with a thud.
Winded for a few moments, she heard voices outside and felt a wave of panic sweep through her. It wasn’t Sebastian. She took a fortifying breath and looked around frantically, not knowing what to do.
She was dressed in a white shift, and would stand out like a beacon if she ran down the drive. Where else could she go? Easing around the edge of the house she looked across to the tree line. In the far distance to the right, she spied the tip of a church spire. She could remember passing it as she rode through the village with Isobel only a few weeks ago.
Without hesitation, she left the sheltered protection of the stone wall and took off across the grass. Despite the increasing winds tearing at her ears, and the pain in her feet from the running across the ground without shoes on, Amelia ran as though the hounds of hell were nipping at her heels. She was vaguely aware of the surprised shouts from men behind her but didn’t stop to look backwards, and instead lengthened her stride as much as she could.
If she could get to the church, or the village, she could find somewhere to hide until morning. Then she could seek help. With her eyes firmly locked on the ground before her, she headed straight for the tree line and the church beyond.
As she reached the protection of the trees, Amelia felt panic sweep through her. The men were closer than she thought. She could distinctly hear Ballantyne’s voice issuing threats as he gave chase.
Crashing through the harsh branches, her feet were cut to ribbons and littered with thorns, but fear drove her onwards without mercy. Branches tore at her thin shift, scraping her arms and chest as she pushed through them. A sob lodged in her throat as she tripped over an unforgiving branch, and landed on the floor with a thud.
She lay panting in the undergrowth for several moments, certain that at any moment she would feel Ballantyne’s hands on her shoulders, dragging her to her feet.
When nothing happened, she glanced backwards. She could hear branches snapping and leaves rustling, but couldn’t see anyone. Lurching to her feet again, she ran for her life.
“There!” Peter shouted, pointing towards the figure of a man heading toward the tree line. Without hesitation he took off after him.
“Wait, she could be inside,” Sebastian gasped, jumping down from his horse. Even from outside, the crackling of burning wood was loud. Smoke billowed out of the rooms on either side of the entrance hall, immediately encasing them in foggy heat.
The acrid burning in his throat made his eyes water, but nothing could deter him from searching the house for Amelia. Although he had little doubt she had fled, there was still the possibility she was inside, and they were trying to burn the house around her. If she was there, he had to find her.
With Dominic and Edward beside him, they entered the large hallway. Orange flames were visible, flickering beneath the wooden door leading to the back of the house.
Coughing against the choking smoke, Edward began a quick sweep of the downstairs rooms he could get into.
Dominic and Sebastian headed for the stairs. As Sebastian reached the top, muffled thumps and cursing blended with the popping and hissing of flames that were steadily engulfing the house.
Despite the thick fog of smoke, Sebastian turned towards the long corridor leading to the bedrooms, and came face to face with Rat.
“Well, well, well. If it isn’t my lord, the carriage jumper,” Rat sneered.
“Where is she?” Sebastian demanded his voice cold and deadly.
“She’s gone. You wouldn’t want her now, even if you could find her.” He smirked lasciviously and tugged at the placket of his breeches meaningfully. “She was good too. Screamed a lot, but took us both.”
Sebastian fought the raw fury that rose in his throat. “If you’ve hurt her, hanging will be a mercy,” Sebastian spat. “Where have they gone?”
Rat shrugged unconcernedly. “Somewhere.” He didn’t see the big man move, and gasped when Sebastian’s rapier appeared at his throat. His eyes popped wide with surprise, and his bravado vanished in an instant.
“You know what? I hope they hang you last so you can see the fate that awaits you,” Sebastian ground out. “Get out of my way!”
Rat never saw the huge fist that landed squarely in the middle of his face, and crumpled without a whimper.
“Tie him up,” Sebastian snapped at Dominic, kicking Rat out of the way and moving to the room behind him. The smoke was thickening far too quickly. Time was short. He just had to know if Amelia was in the house somewhere. Covering his lower face with his cloak, he stepped over Rat’s unconscious form and pushed into the first bedroom.
The sight that met him made his knees shake, and he cursed fluidly. He paused for a few moments against the doorjamb to steady himself, his eyes filled with horror.
At the foot of the bed on the floor lay Amelia’s dress. The bed, rumpled and tousled, had two ropes at the head, clearly used to tie her down.
“Sweet Jesus,” Dominic whispered behind him, his throat husky from the smoke.
Sebastian blinked back tears as he turned and began to work his way down the remainder of the corridor. He took a small measure of satisfaction at ferociously kicking each door open as he went. Dominic began to search rooms on the other side, ignoring the flames that met him when he opened the last three doors.
There was no sign of Amelia.
With a negative shake of his head at Sebastian, they made their way back downstairs, bursting out of the house as the smoke became too thick to see through. The mixture of the brandy he had consumed earlier that evening, the thick smoke and the sight in the bedroom became too much and Sebastian bent over, promptly losing the contents of his stomach in the bushes.
“There is nobody downstairs. Fire’s in the cellar as well,” Edward reported with a cough.
“They have torched the whole house. There is nothing we can do, Amelia isn’t there.”
“Which way did they go?”
“The church, I think.” Edward nodded. “There was only one man heading that way. Peter’s chasing.”
“Ballantyne.” Sebastian spat the last of the bile out of his mouth and ran to his horse. Within seconds he had mounted and was thundering towards the tree line. He didn’t need to look behind him to know that Dominic and Edward were following.
As he rode, Sebastian blinked the sting of tears out of his eyes as he considered what Amelia could have been subjected to. His precious, wonderful Amelia. Ballantyne was depraved and twisted at the best of times. As he rode, Sebastian swore that whatever they had done to her, as long as she was alive, he would be there for her.
He just had to get to her before Ballantyne did.
At the tree line, Sebastian drew his sabre and tore through the dark overhang of branches towards the direction of the church. He glanced at Dominic, Edward and Peter, who all appeared silently beside him.
“Psst.” Sebastian turned and looked at Peter, who flicked his ear.
“Come out; come out, wherever you are,” the sing-song voice chanted from the graveyard.
Silently they moved forward, listening as Ballantyne chanted time and again, trying to frighten Amelia into coming out of hiding. Sometimes louder, sometimes barely a whisper, it was eerie in the silence of the night.
“I know you are here somewhere, and I will find you. I won’t be happy when I do, and you will pay.”
Sebastian heaved a sigh of relief. Amelia was at least alive. He shook his head, and focused on the graveyard now visible through the trees. He could see the dark shadow of Ballantyne slowly moving amongst the gravestones, but couldn’t see any sign of Amelia.
He felt proud of her. Wherever she was, she had hidden well.
Sebastian began to circle the gravestones, keeping a careful eye on Ballantyne while he searched for Amelia in the darkness. He was aware of his brothers fanning out around the graveyard, and silently disappearing into the trees.
Sebastian needed Amelia to know he was there. “Lost her again, Ballantyne?” Sebastian shouted, hoping Amelia heard him.
“You took your time, Cavendish,” Ballantyne replied, his eyes scanning the trees suspiciously. “I wondered how long it would take you to find us.”
“You should know there is nowhere you can hide from me.” Sebastian slowly drew his sabre. The sound of steel sliding upon steel echoed threateningly around the graveyard.
“Oh, Amelia knows about paying, don’t you Amelia?” Ballantyne murmured, as a lascivious grin suddenly lit his face. “She was good too. Took a bit of convincing, but took everything we gave her in the end.” His laugh was loud and high.
Sebastian wondered if the man was actually sane. Depraved and twisted definitely. Insane? Maybe.
“Amelia, stay where you are, darling. I will find you,” Sebastian shouted through the gloom, catching sight of Dominic approaching slowly and silently from the side of the church.
“Ah, isn’t that sweet. He will find you, Amelia,” Ballantyne sing-songed. “He won’t want you when he realises what we have done to you, but he will find yooouuuu!”
Sebastian suddenly had a thought. “You are going to the gallows for murder, Ballantyne, you know that. Unfortunately for you, nobody will buy your claim to insanity. You are greedy. You are a callous, depraved murderer, but you are not insane.”
Ballantyne turned hard, feral eyes on him. All traces of mirth vanished in an instant, leaving Sebastian in no doubt that before him was the cold, hard murderer who had ruthlessly slaughtered an innocent servant. Then sent an innocent man to the gallows.
“You have nothing on me,” Ballantyne spat, his voice devoid of humanity.
“Oh, but I am afraid we do. You see, we have people who will testify against you and letters confirming your trickery from the people who were your victims.” Sebastian paused when Ballantyne snorted.
“Of course you do. They are all dead,” he shouted, holding his arms wide. “Nobody is alive to implicate me, because they are all dead!”
“Unfortunately for you, they all knew how low you could really go, and wrote letters confirming what you had done before they died.” He watched Ballantyne hitch a breath to interrupt and continued.
“Martha, the maid you murdered with your brother, had told her sister that you were both raping her. Passing her around at orgies and so forth. Her sister told her to leave, but she daren’t be cast out, especially as she was carrying your child. It was yours, wasn’t it Ballantyne? You had slept with a servant and stupidly got her with child.” Contempt coloured his voice. “But that wasn’t enough. You had to get rid of Hawksworth when he saw you slit Martha’s throat, didn’t you? You knew that when he sobered up, he could remember everything and go to the authorities. So you framed him.”
“Stupid oaf. Always drinking. Even with the most beautiful woman at the orgies, he couldn’t get it up. Instead, sat in the corner in a drunken stupor. Drinking and watching. Stupid bastard woke up while we were trying to clean up the mess. Damned maid bled like a stuck pig. Hawksworth became agitated, so we plied him with more drink. It was easy to lie him down in the bed next to the whore’s body, and put the knife in his hand. He couldn’t remember anything he saw when he woke up. He was easy to convince.”
“Until he did sober up in gaol. By that time it was too late, and nobody would listen to the ranting of a drunken murderer.” Sebastian was unsurprised when Ballantyne made no move to contradict him.
“You didn’t count on Hawksworth writing to his family seeking help, and revealing everything though, did you?” Sebastian added. “Sending a letter to his cousin that clearly detailed everything he knew. Telling everyone you were the one holding the knife. He could remember the events he witnessed that night clearly enough to recount specific details. When nobody would listen to either his true identity, or the name of the real murder, he wrote a true account of events and sent it to his family. Especially when he knew he was going to be hung for a crime he didn’t commit.”
For the first time Sebastian felt a little empathy for the drunken Hawksworth, who for no other reason than his own weakness, had found himself living on the fringes of society. A society that parcelled him up and handed him over to the hangman’s noose without mercy.
“Nobody has any firm evidence. Your aunt claimed she had a letter, but who would believe her? I am now Lord Ballantyne. Nobody can accuse me of anything. Especially some mad old bat who was behaving oddly anyway. Nobody has any evidence that can convict me of anything.” The arrogant contempt in the man’s voice made Sebastian’s skin crawl.
“You have no wealth,” Sebastian contradicted loudly. “You spent it all on whores and gambling. Your estates are about to be claimed by your creditors. Your family name is blackened by your debauched lifestyle. You can fire a house, but the evidence isn’t there, Ballantyne. I have it. Montague has the rest.” He watched panic enter the man’s eyes and wondered just how far he could push him. “You are finished, Ballantyne. The hangman’s noose is going to be the easy way out.”
“My family name is not besmirched,” Ballantyne screamed, and he drew his sabre, lunging at Sebastian with an epithet.
“Keep back,” Sebastian shouted to the others, as they all moved out of their respective hiding places at once. “This is between me and him.”
He lunched forwards with a parry that took the smaller man by surprise.
With astonishing dexterity, Ballantyne returned the volley and sparks flew.
The fight was on.
Amelia couldn’t see anything from her hiding place behind a huge gravestone, but could hear the clanging of steel upon steel as the two men fought. Once or twice, she thought she saw sparks fly into the air but daren’t look.
Despite knowing Ballantyne’s attention was on Sebastian and their fight, Amelia daren’t stand up. She was so cold, she wasn’t sure she had the strength in her legs anyway. Her feet were so bloodied and bruised from running through the woods, it was painful just to sit with them resting on the floor. Instead, she tried to block everything out and curled into a tight ball to wait.
If Sebastian was there, the chances were Peter, Edward or Dominic was there too. She couldn’t see them and she didn’t want to distract Sebastian by appearing like a ghost from behind the crypt. So she had to sit and wait, and hope that if Sebastian became at risk, his brothers would step in and finish the job for him.
Shivering and terrified, she curled into a tight ball and began to pray.
Sebastian fought for Amelia. Not for the physical pain of the beatings they gave him, or his attempted murder. But for everything they had subjected Amelia to.
His blows were harder; his parries longer. He let his demons loose. With a low snarl, he countered each blow Ballantyne struck with dexterous ease, pleased when the tip of his blade scored along the man’s shoulder, leaving a trail of blood in its wake.
Ballantyne stared down in disbelief at his shoulder before turning his gaze back to Sebastian.
“Tell the others to move back,” he spat, chest heaving with exertion from wielding the heavy sword for such a long time. “Tell them, or I kill her.” The tip of his sabre disappeared behind a large gravestone.
Sebastian heard Amelia’s whimper before she was grabbed by the hair and dragged to her feet. He swore fluidly at the bedraggled sight of her.
Her hair was loosely hanging down around her shoulders and wildly tangled, barely covering her modesty. The abject terror in her eyes nearly unmanned him.
Sebastian was vaguely aware of his brothers moving out of the way, to allow Ballantyne to edge sideways towards the entrance, dragging a reluctant Amelia with him.
“I swear to God, Ballantyne, this has to stop,” Sebastian demanded with a growl.
“Sebastian.” Amelia wasn’t sure if he heard her, but it gave her strength to know he was nearby. Her gaze locked on him beseechingly.
“Keep your distance, or I will slit her throat,” Ballantyne warned, his voice deadly as he swept around in a circle. “You can then watch your whore die, knowing that not only is she soiled with our seed, but she is dying slowly and painfully.”
Amelia whimpered as her feet landed on the sharp stones on the pathway leading away from the churchyard. She was already numb from the cold, but could feel every stone dig into her bruised flesh with agonising accuracy.
As she was dragged out of the churchyard, she could barely put her feet down. Her weight was too much for Ballantyne to drag. With a curse he picked her up bodily, and ran along the cart track with her, heading away from the village.
Amelia eventually heard the sound of rushing water with a sense of dread.
She began to fight and writhe against him until he dropped her. Her feet had no sooner hit the floor before she was pulled upwards by the hair, and dragged towards a large river running along the side of the track.
The noise of the rushing water flowing fast and furious was deafening. Amelia’s stomach dropped when she was dragged to the edge of the stone outcrop, directly above the raging water.
“Suicide?” Amelia gasped, staring in horror at the gaping darkness below.
“I’ll survive,” Ballantyne replied absently, squinting through the gloom for signs of Sebastian and the others. Within seconds they pounded to a stop a few feet away.
Amelia screamed when she was immediately shoved forwards until she was hanging over raging waters, held by nothing more than her thin shift. The whisper-thin material wasn’t designed to carry her body weight and it began to tear. She frantically clawed at Ballantyne’s arm, trying to gain a secure hold as the material was pulled tight.
“What has Amelia done to you, Ballantyne? She is an innocent party in all of this. Let her go. It’s me you want.” Sebastian’s voice was faint over the roaring of water in her ears.
“It isn’t you either, you buffoon,” Ballantyne spat. “You don’t understand do you? All of my life I have been the second one in the family. My brother was always getting everything. The title. The estates. The wife. The family would always look at me askance. Always picked fault with everything I did. It is all mine by rights. All of it. I shouldn’t be denied it because of a stupid whore!”
“If only Bertram had signed the house over to me, I would have left him alone. All I needed was to get my hands on that bloody letter. It seemed the only way I could get access to the house to look for it, was to buy the bloody place. I tried to pay for it. I offered your idiot uncle a good price, but he refused. I had already got the title and lands from my brother. All I needed to make the empire complete, and safe, was the damned house and its contents. Then you turned up.”
His cynical laugh made Amelia shudder as she swayed over the watery void. The ground beneath her feet began to crumble, and she struggled to gain purchase with her bruised feet.
“So you decided to kill for it,” Sebastian murmured, thinking of his carriage ride that led him to Amelia. “Only it didn’t work, did it? I survived and returned to haunt you.”
“You were lucky. I relied on the wrong person,” Ballantyne spat, wiping spittle off his chin and poking Amelia in the shoulder with the blade he still held at the same time.
Amelia cried out as pain burned in her shoulder, and felt the warm trickle of blood slowly slid over her chest
She turned tear-filled eyes towards Sebastian. She was frozen. The material of her chemise was nearly torn through, and the ground was crumbling beneath her. Her time was close.
Even if she could survive the fall, the icy waters below would be too much. She was going to die.
“Sebastian.” Amelia’s voice trembled with fear and pain.
“Let her go, Ballantyne,” Sebastian ordered, taking off his cloak. “It’s me you want.”
Ballantyne shook his head. “I’m not going to the gallows. If I am going to die, then I will choose the way.”
“Just let her go. I’ll give you the letter and the Penny Dreadful back. Amelia has done nothing to you.” Sebastian knew he was pleading with the man, but at that moment would have done anything to spare Amelia a watery fate.
“It’s too late. You already have the papers. If you had only signed the house over to me, the papers would be mine and I would have left you alone. But oh no, not you. You have to keep the bloody house and uncover everything,” Ballantyne ranted. With a quick glance at Amelia, he smiled smugly and leant backwards.
Amelia felt the weight shift before he began to topple backwards. She instinctively bent over, trying to retain her foothold on the crumbling outcropping, crying out as she began to fall. Somewhere below she heard the loud splash as Ballantyne hit the water.
She was soaked to the skin and frozen. Her fingers wouldn’t work enough to gain purchase, and she began to lose her grip and slide downwards.
Within seconds, Sebastian appeared over the edge.
“Hold on, darling,” he shouted, grabbing hold of her slender wrists, and swearing fiercely.
“We’ve got you, Sebastian,” Dominic shouted. “Pull!”
But Amelia was too cold, and too wet, and began to slide through his grip.
Sebastian’s eyes met and held hers in a breathless moment, as she gazed helplessly up at him. She knew she was slipping and he wouldn’t be able to save her. The realisation shone in her eyes as she stared up at him.
“I love you, Sebastian,” she whispered, hoping he could hear her over the rushing water. “I want you to know that I will never regret anything that happened between us. I didn’t want you to be tied into an unhappy marriage to a woman you cannot love.” Despite her dire situation, Amelia needed him to understand.
“Don’t you give up on me,” Sebastian ordered, watching with horror as she slipped lower, until only their fingers were joined. “I need to be lower, I’m dropping her,” he shouted, but was too late. He stared in horror as Amelia’s fear-filled face disappeared into the black void below. Her scream of terror ended abruptly with a huge splash.
Silence settled over them for several seconds as everyone froze.
“Sweet mother of God,” Dominic swore from behind him.
“There she is,” Edward shouted, as he pointed downstream at the glimmer of white appeared briefly in the raging waters.
“She may still be alive,” Peter yelled, as he took off after Edward. They all ran downstream until they drew near to Amelia’s floating body.
Without hesitation, Sebastian dived into the murky waters, popping up mere feet away. It took all of his strength to reach her against the strong current, only just managing to capture her ankle and tug her towards him as the waters threatened to pull him under.
He gasped as his hand came into contact with her icy flesh. She felt colder than the water she was floating in. He managed to turn her over and get her face out of the water before turning back toward the bank.
The next few minutes were a battle for both of their lives, as he kicked and fought to reach safe ground. The men on the bank formed a human chain, each holding on to the other as they pulled and heaved Sebastian and Amelia to the safety of the dry bank.
Sebastian was shivering more with fear than cold as he hauled Amelia’s body onto the bank, quickly covering her over with the thick cloak Edward handed him.
“We have to get her warm,” Dominic panted, lying on the ground beside them for a few moments as he tried to get his breath.
Unable to speak, Sebastian merely nodded and swept Amelia into his arms. He took off towards the graveyard at a near run, heading towards his horse.
At first he couldn’t get into the saddle. It took too many precious minutes before he was mounted with Amelia perched precariously before him. Panic blurred his thoughts and it was only when he was mounted that he cursed. There was nowhere but Tingdale to go, and that was at least two hours away.
The cool winds whipped around them in raging fury, as he kicked his mount into a fast gallop, and took off across the fields towards Tingdale. She was so deathly pale. Her tangled and sodden hair hung lifelessly around her still shoulders. Her lips were a pale blue. She wasn’t even shivering.
“Is she breathing?” Dominic shouted, as they galloped past the roaring bulk of the burning house.
“Just,” Sebastian replied. “But we have to get her warm.”
“If we each take it in turns to ride with her in front of us, we can share the burden of two riders and spare the horses. We will get there faster.”
Sebastian didn’t stop to consider what had happened to Peter and Edward who weren’t following them.
They were so intent on racing Amelia to warmth and safety, that none of them remembered Rat, who was lying in the burning embers of the house he had torched.
Later that afternoon, Sebastian watched the doctor disappear through the gates at the end of the driveway with a sigh, and turned back to stare at Amelia.
Although she had woken up earlier, she was suffering from extreme cold and exhaustion. The doctor had stitched the cut on her shoulder, left a tisane and some laudanum for her battered feet, and ordered complete bed rest.
Sebastian quietly sat beside the bed, and dropped his head into his hands.
He couldn’t remember much about the journey home. He could vaguely remember stopping several times while he and Dominic swapped her from horse to horse, but arriving home remained a horrifying blur.
He had no sooner placed Amelia on the bed in his suite, than a steady precession of maids had come and gone. They had dried and dressed her in a clean night rail, before packing the bed with hot bricks and blankets. No sooner had they left, than the doctor had arrived and pushed him out of the room.
While pacing the floor of the library helplessly, Edward and Peter had arrived. They had brought news about Ballantyne, who was now sitting in the cellar of the tavern awaiting the magistrate and his men.
Covered in smoky grime, Peter had fallen into an exhausted heap on the chair beside the fire and reported that someone had noticed the fire and summoned the villagers. Despite their best efforts, the house was beyond help and had been raised to the ground. While banking down the embers, Ratchett’s body had been found.
“Sebastian?” Amelia turned her head. Her heart sank at the sight of him sitting with his head in his hands beside her. “What’s wrong?”
Sebastian’s head snapped up. He stared nonplussed at her; as though he couldn’t believe she was awake. Visibly shaking, he immediately went to move towards her, but had second thoughts and sat back down in the chair with a thump.
“Amelia,” he whispered, staring lovingly at her for several moments as silence stretched before them. His eyes were filled with longing, hope and regret as he studied her pale face lovingly. He coughed uncomfortably around the lump in his throat.
“How do you feel?”
Amelia considered for a moment, doing a mental inventory from head to foot before frowning. “Sore,” she declared firmly, thinking of the state of her feet.
Sebastian winced and frowned in concern. “I am so sorry. So very, very sorry,” he whispered mournfully.
“It wasn’t your fault.”
“I wonder sometimes if you weren’t right, and I should have left you in Glendowie. It was me Ballantyne was after. You got caught in the middle. I am so very sorry I dragged you into this.” Sebastian fought his way through the tumult of emotions that churned within him.
“I want you to know that what happened last night; what they did to you doesn’t change the way I feel about you.” His eyes met and held hers. “I love you, and always will.”
Amelia cried out at the precious words she had longed for. “I love you too.”
“Do you? Do you really? Even after last night?” Sebastian’s voice trembled, as he perched tentatively on the edge of the bed. He didn’t want to frighten her, but couldn’t stand the distance between them a second longer. He needed to be near her. If only to gain reassurance that she really was going to be alright.
“Last night was one of those things. We all thought Ballantyne had been arrested. It appears he left before they could get him. You cannot control events caused by someone like that. Nothing that happened last night was your fault. If anyone was to blame, it was me. When I left the pavilion, I should have returned indoors instead of wandering around outside.”
“Do you remember much about last night?” Sebastian murmured, wondering if she had blanked everything out.
“I can remember everything,” she whispered shakily. “I do love you, you know. I just didn’t want to be tied into marriage to you knowing you didn’t feel the same way. I didn’t want us to end up like my parents.”
“We never will, Amelia. I love you.” Sebastian carefully picked her hand up, kissing the back of it tenderly. “Nothing you can do will ever change that. I will give my last breath to protect you. Although, I haven’t done a very good job of looking after you so far.”
“Nobody can predict someone like Ballantyne. Do you think he was insane?” Amelia thought back to Sebastian’s discussion with him in the graveyard.
“I think he was perfectly aware of what he was doing. He was merely trying to act out of his mind in the hope that if we did get him to the gallows, he would be let off due to his mental condition,” Sebastian replied honestly, and without sympathy for the other man. He held her hand a bit more firmly as his eyes met hers. “I think it only right you should know that he too survived the plunge into the raging torrent.”
Amelia cringed and felt her stomach flip. Instinctively, her hand tightened on Sebastian’s.
“He was unconscious when Edward found him downstream, but was alive. He is now in Derby Gaol waiting trial. With the evidence against him, there is no question he will hang. Rat torched the house, and was killed as it burnt. You are perfectly safe now, from both of them.”
Amelia fought a sob but couldn’t prevent the tears that escaped her eyes. “So it really is over now?” she hiccupped, unable to believe that they were free at last to get on with their lives.
“Yes, darling. It definitely is over. We can now start to piece our lives back together again.” Sebastian shifted, wondering how to broach such a painful topic.
“I also want you to know that if there are any repercussions from last night, I will support you in every way. We will deal with it together. I love you, and will accept whatever decision you consider best,” he said the last in a rush, needing her to understand.
“Repercussions?” Amelia frowned, wondering what he was talking about. “I think my feet will recover. The doctor has left a tisane, and the stitches in my shoulder will be removed in time. Apart from that, I am sure I will make a full and complete recovery.” She raised a hand and tipped Sebastian’s face around to face her until their eyes met.
“Both Rat and Ballantyne said they had ‘used’ you.” Sebastian’s voice shook with suppressed fury at the thought of her ordeal.
“They lied,” Amelia whispered, pushing the covers down and sitting upwards to kiss his chin. “I think they would have, if they hadn’t realised you were there. There are no repercussions from last night,” Amelia replied with a soft smile, lying back on the bed and tugging Sebastian down with her.
“But there are from our other nights,” she whispered, and waited for the news to sink in.
At first Sebastian heard her words, but their import didn’t register. Amelia sighed and rolled her eyes before carefully tugging his head toward her.
“We have to get married now,” she whispered. “You have to make an honest woman out of me, so we can deal with this repercussion together.”
Sebastian froze, and stared in wonder as he realised what she meant. He tugged the covers lower to stare in wonder at the soft mound of her belly before snapping his eyes back to hers.
“Are you sure?” His voice was husky with smoky surprise.
“The doctor confirmed it before he left. I asked him not to tell you because I wanted to myself,” Amelia smiled, when she was immediately swept into a bear hug and her face was smothered in kisses.
“I love you. Will you marry me, Amelia?” Sebastian whispered several minutes later when he released her lips.
“With pleasure.” She replied with a smile, tugging his head down to hers for several long moments.
Two weeks later
Sebastian and Amelia left the church to the sounds of raucous cheers from the assembled staff and friends, and the joyous ringing of the church bells. As they walked slowly towards the main house through the assembled well wishers, Amelia stopped to accept bunches of posies and flowers from the various workers on the estate.
Sebastian watched his wife with a heart full of love and happiness.
“So, can life get back to normal now?” Edward queried teasingly from beside him.
“I don’t know. It’s your turn to be snared by the parson’s trap next,” Sebastian teased, watching with amusement as Edward looked back at him in horror.
“Oh no, not me. I’ve had enough of damsels in distress, insane relatives and murderous despots to last me a lifetime,” Edward muttered. “I’ll leave the matrimonial thing to Peter.”
“Do you think he will ever find Jemima?” Sebastian’s voice was vague. His gaze was locked on his new wife with masculine interest as they neared the house.
“It won’t be for lack of trying,” Dominic replied, scratching his chin thoughtfully. “It’s the damndest thing. You go along blissfully single, and suddenly ‘the one’ appears before you and casually tosses your entire life on its head. Nothing is ever the same again.”
“Or in my case, lands your doorstep,” Sebastian added.
“Well in your case, you landed on the right doorstep at the right time. Who saved whose life again?” Edward shook his head at Sebastian, knowing he had already lost his attention.
“You wait and see. When your turn comes, you won’t know what’s hit you,” Sebastian warned, sliding his arm around his wife’s waist and kissing her neck as he guided her through the door.
“Don’t hold your breath,” Edward warned, shivering in horror, before following the happy couple to join in with the celebrations.
The End